Arachne
by Xanid
Summary: When a new programmer is employed by MI6, Q just cant bring himself to trust her. There is absolutely no record of her on any computer database and M refuses to disclose information about the classified project she's working on! Why SHOULD he trust her? Post Skyfall. T to be safe and for some swearing later. Q/OC
1. Lucky Number

She kept her head down as she walked. She had remembered hearing somewhere that on your (possible) first day on in a new job, you should look confidant, however, she surmised, the last thing she wanted to do was stand out.

_"That certainly worked out well, didn't it?"_

She hadn't MEANT to attract attention from a government agency, of course. Especially NOT from MI6. But she had. And this was the result.

The 23 year old felt rather intimidated by her environment. Men in expensive looking suits and practically strangled by their chosen ties bustled about the lobby. Women stood tall in their impractical high heels and squeezed into the tightest pencil skirts they could find.

Nobody told her there was a dress code! She wore black trousers with totally flat ankle boots (she hated heels) a white shirt, dark jacket and a bright blue scarf. Unlike the majority of women, she didn't carry a handbag. Who in their right mind would if they only used the thief infested Tube to travel around London? She walked quickly towards the reception desk, pushing her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose with two fingers as she walked.

The building towered over the city of London. The glass windows shining so brightly, you'd almost need sunglasses to look directly at it. Three months ago, this building had been totally destroyed, she had even seen it on the news herself. It was said that this new MI6 headquarters was now bigger and better than ever.

_"Thanks to British taxpayers"_ she thought grimely.

At least she wasn't one of them. Yet. She didn't know how or why, but somehow MI6 had found her and she was willing to bet that if the Irish government found out, they wouldn't be too pleased.

She cleared her throat to gain the attention of the blond (and very orange) woman behind the reception desk. The thirty- something receptionist barely just glanced at her for a moment before comparing the girls face to an image on her computer screen. "Thank you for coming, Miss. If you'll follow me, I shall take you to M"

The receptionist rose from her seat behind her desk and looked at the girl. She turned slightly pink (Surprising, considering that luminous shade of orange) and the girl jumped as she heard a deep voice from behind her. "No need, Brianna. I shall escort the lady upstairs."

The man in his early forties who spoke loomed over her (not really a difficult thing to achieve, given the girls 5ft 2 inch stature) and unsurprisingly like the rest of the men she had seen so far today, he wore a suit and tie. His piercing blue eyes contrasted his blonde hair. The girl had to admit he was quite handsome, so she felt the giddy receptionist's answer was quite justified. "Ok!" giggled Brianna before sitting back down and gazing longingly after the man, who the girl now noticed was beckoning her towards the elevator.

She walked quickly after him and slid into the elevator as he held the door for her. As the doors slid shut with a 'ping!', she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the mirrored lift. Her plaited brown hair was hidden under her blue hat, and her skin was still red from the icy February weather she encountered on her way here this morning. Her chunky black rimmed glasses were tilted slightly to one side, so she pushed them up the bridge of her nose gently with two fingers to correct them.

"So what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

The blonde haired man had addressed her. She felt slightly uncomfortable under his piercing gaze. It was almost as if he could see straight through her. "Um... I've been asked to come in. About a job?" she stuttered.

The man smiled and looked up at the counter indicating the buildings floor numbers. "Ah. We have been putting it off for a while. It's probably about time we filled that position, Miss...?"

She realized that he was looking for her name. She almost told him, until she remembered the instructions she had been given not so long ago. "Uh... I've been told I can't tell people my name"

The man almost looked nostalgic as he replied, "You have indeed met M before...". His thoughts were interrupted as the lift opened abruptly. He stepped out, and so the girl followed him. Judging by the amount of time spent in the lift she estimated that they were now somewhere near the top floor of the building and she now stood in a bare white office. Sitting at a lone desk to one side of the office sat a woman. Her eyes lit up as she saw the man enter the room but her expression hardened when she caught sight of his companion.

"Thank you for coming, Miss. We have been expecting you. You may go straight through to see M"

She rose from behind her desk to open the door beside her and beckoned the girl to enter the adjoining room. The girl kept her head down as she walked briskly across the room, but she suddenly stopped just on the threshold of the doorway.

"Um... that's not M" she stuttered. The unfamiliar man behind the desk rose to greet her. "Unfortunately, the woman you know as my predecessor has been killed. Such is the risk in our line of work, I'm afraid" By now, his secretary had closed the door behind her._ "No going back, now" _she thought.

She noted his use of the word "our". She realised, that this really was finally happening now, she was entering the dangerous world of espionage. Actually, now that she thought about it, she had entered this world as soon as she met the woman she knew as "M" in that bookshop on O'Connell's Street nearly a year ago. This was a part of her now.

The man continued. "I am the new M now."

"My apologies, sir. I had no idea-"

"That's quite alright. Now, please sit." He motioned to one of the comfy looking chairs in front of his antique desk. She sat down slowly, cautiously.

"Pick a number between one and ten."

"Excuse me?"

He looked at her expectantly. He wasn't joking. She thought for a moment, and a number came into her mind. Her lucky number.

"Um, nine?"

He typed something into his computer. "Alright then, should you choose to accept a place here with us, your new name shall be Nine. You shall be known to everyone in this building by that name, only. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir"

He paused for a moment, "You do know how you came to be here?"

She thought about the question before answering, "Well, my father is English and I was born in London, so although I am an Irish citizen and I have lived there for the majority of my life I am still technically British. Therefore I am eligible to work for MI6. M- uh, the other M didn't tell me how you found me or why you wanted me to work for you."

M sighed, leaning back in his chair, "Hmm, well, every year MI6 review the list of college graduates who specialize in the field of computers. If we see someone we like, we offer them a position here upon the completion of the candidates chosen degree. Unfortunately, for the past two years, nobody has stood out. However, you came to our attention five years ago..."

Five years ago? She had been 18 at the time, what could she have possibly... the answer came to her then, "...When I officially became an Irish citizen?" she asked cautiously. She carried a British passport, and thought that maybe it would be easier for her to procure a job in Ireland if she became an Irish citizen. She had always felt practically Irish. She had only spent the first three years of her life in England, but she couldn't remember any of it. Her parents moved to the small Irish speaking part of Ireland that her mother came from when she started school. As a result, she picked up both English and Irish as languages so she could communicate with her family, rural community and the people in her life who could only speak English.

He nodded, "Indeed. So we took a look at your CAO form and found out about your interest in a career in computers. Your exceptionally high Leaving Certificate results caught our attention as well. We followed your progress as you studied in DIT and tested your abilities-"

"I'm sorry, you tested me?" She hated interrupting, but M didn't seem to mind.

"Well, we had to scout you before considering you for a position here at MI6. We have contacts in DIT. One of whom was one of your lecturers. Why do you think you were the only student who acquired extra credit assignments?"

It was all starting to make sense to her now: Her high grades, odd assignments, special attention and encouragement from various lecturers- it was clear MI6 had been watching her for a while now.

"Now," said M, "Lets get down to business: the reason why you are here..."

Nine, leaned forward in her seat, her curiosity intrigued.

* * *

Outside M's office, James Bond was engaged in his usual bout of playful banter with Moneypenny when M and the new girl emerged from behind the double doors.

"I was starting to think that my precedent truly had gone crazy when I found she had scouted you." M was saying, the girl easily keeping up with him. "Now I realize, I was insane not to trust her judgement. Welcome to MI6, Nine."

Moneypenny smiled and went to shake the girl's hand, "So, it's official then? You're one of us?"

The girl nodded. "I guess so. Nice to meet you, Miss. I'm Nine."

"So, they've finally moved on from the letters and switched to numbers? It was inevitable! I'm Eve Moneypenny, but please call me Eve. If you need help settling in or anything, come and find me."

"Much appreciated, Eve."

The man who had escorted her went to shake her hand, "Bond" he grinned, "James Bond." M cleared his throat, "Now, if you would follow me, Nine I will show you the Q division where you will be working." He led her back to the lift and raised an inquisitive eyebrow when Bond stepped in after him. "I have business to discuss with our dearest Quartermaster" said Bond, smirking. Nine's stomach lurched as the lift plummeted back down to where she had just come from.

The Quartermaster, Q. Nine had been told that he was her boss, and was quite startled to find that she was now his new second in command, which she found quite daunting. She tuned out of the conversation between M and Bond, taking refuge in her thoughts. As she was led further into the building, Nine analysed her surroundings, making note of where she was being led. Somewhere below ground, she guessed. After passing through a large laboratory she followed M through an automatic sliding glass door into what looked like a firing range.

The floor and walls were grey concrete and three men in stark white labcoats were standing next to computers behind a tall nerdy looking young fellow in a cardigan. An older moustachioed man held a clipboard, "Test number one one four, micro silencer 2.0, Mark II, in three... two... one..."

The young man in front of them fired a gun, much to Nine's shock. She wasn't used to being around firearms. A loud noise, somewhere between a sharp "bang" and a rather pathetic "poof" filled the room. A cloud of thick black smoke appeared and the recoil from the handgun threw the man back into a table behind him. Coughing, the man managed to catch himself.

"Write that down!" He wheezed, before breaking into another fit of coughing, "Bloody thing. Note that gunpowder not to be used as a suppressant due to increased recoil effect" The other men hastily scribbled and typed the results of the experiment. "I suppose the old ways aren't always the best ways..." muttered the man.

"It was still worth a shot, eh?" Chuckled one of the scientists, a bald man with glasses and a goatee. His colleagues moaned at the horrible joke.

Beside Nine, Bond started clapping slowly, mockingly "I must admit that was as entertaining as hell! Still no luck?" He handed the man the handkerchief that was sticking out of his jacket pocket.

"Take a wild guess, 007" he croaked, trying to wipe the gunpowder residue from glasses. M cleared his throat and so the man slid his glasses back on and attempted to rid himself of the rest of the residue, "Morning, M."

"Q, let me introduce your new second in command, Nine"

_"This is Q?"_ She thought, bewildered. _"He couldn't be more than a year or two older than me!"._ Now that Q was mostly cleaned up, Nine studied him. He was around the same height as Bond, maybe an inch or two shorter. He wore trousers, a green- yellow cardigan over a white shirt and black tie. His messy black hair and thick glasses completed the look. Q's gaze fell to the girl before flickering back to his boss, "M, We don't need-"

"Things change, Quartermaster. MI6 needs all the help it can get."

Q set the gun on the desk, sighing in defeat. He obviously wasn't bothered to pursue an argument he could not win. He looked at Nine again, "...hacker?" he asked. Q couldn't hear her muttered reply.

"Pardon?"

Nine spoke up "Um, programmer. I can hack a little, but I'm more adept at programming" she said meekly. Q shrugged, "Good. My programming skills, unfortunately, are a little more inadequate than I would like to admit." He walked back into the laboratory they came through. "One of your desks is over there." He pointed to a clean desk amongst a group of others with papers and folders piled neatly on top of them. "I suggest you set up the computer now, then we'll show you our main office."

Nine nodded and began to boot up the computer. Q wandered over to the desk beside hers, typing something onto another computer before turning to Bond and M. "So, what can I do for you, 007?"

"I am here to return your latest equipment," he said, placing items Nine couldn't see before Q. "Bond, when I said return my equipment, I MEANT IN ONE PIECE!" said the mortified Quartermaster, holding up an iPhone with what looked like a bullet hole going clean through the centre of the glass screen. Bond shrugged, "I was due for an upgrade anyway." Q looked to his boss for help, but M was too busy smirking at his dilemma. Nine didn't think it was funny, she knew how difficult and expensive programming such technology could be. She felt a bit sad at the sight of the maimed smartphone.

Her desktop bleeped softly, indicating that the basic setup had finished. Nine then went for the USB key she wore on a chain around her neck. When she wrote her Masters thesis, she submitted this key to outline her points on the mechanics of quantum encryption, and later she built up the code she had already written and had planned to sell on the technology once she finished the program. This program was the reason she was sitting here now. A hand grabbed her wrist before she could insert the key into one of the ports, and she found herself looking up at Q.

"Standard protocol, Nine. No foreign USB keys-" he began, but was interrupted by M, "She can use any USB she likes, Q. It is important that the project I have asked Nine to undertake be completed as quickly and discreetly as possible. Only when it is fully completed will you be given knowledge of the assignment."

Q seemed taken aback by this. Information was being kept from him, in his own department! He didn't seem happy in the slightest, but he still grudgingly gave Nine permission with a nod of his head. "Now that that's finished," said M, "Nine, have you any experience with firearms?"

Nine's eyes widened in surprise "No, sir" she said softly, nervously glancing at the handgun on Q's desk, "I've never so much as seen a gun until today." This was of course, true. She came from a country with hardly any weapons in sight, not even the national police force carried arms! Every second she spent in this office, the more incompetent she felt.

M shook his head, "Well, you'd better learn the basics. You will be developing gadgets as well as hacking computers!" Out of the corner of her eye, Nine saw Bond and Q grimace at them. _"They're probably dreading working with someone so inexperienced... knowing my luck, I'll be a hindrance more than a help!"_

"I asked 002 to be your instructor, but unfortunately he is a little tied up in Columbia at the moment." Nine was around fifty five percent sure that M meant that to be a joke. But paired with the solemn look on the faces of the other two men, the figure dropped significantly. "Instead, 007 shall be taking his place"

Nine's heart sank faster than a stone. Learning ways to hurt people from this smug looking man wasn't very high on her list of exiting things to do. She was slightly confused by Bond's reaction. Judging by the look of surprise on his face, this was news to him. M was already at the exit when he turned around, "Oh yes, 007? I need you to teach Nine about the firearms we use here at MI6. Preferably before you leave for Paris."

_"That makes more sense"_ Nine thought, deflated.


	2. Ghost

Nine sat at her desk scribbling notes on a piece of paper and waited for her USB key to finish installing on her new computer in the basement, or level BQ as she discovered it was called. Apparently, MI6 had many floors above and below ground but no one person except M had access to them all. The young man she now knew to be Q sat beside her, trying to get a sneaky glimpse over her shoulder. She let him. _"No harm done unless he happens to be able to fluently speak an almost dead language." _Even if he could read Irish, she seriously doubted Q would be able to make sense of her endless waffle.

"So where did you learn to programme?"

Q had caught her off guard. She was immersed in her work, and wasn't used to being interrupted. She kept her answer short and simple. Still, she gave him enough information to let him know that she wasn't completely incompetent. "DIT. Masters in Computer Programming. Honours Bachelor in Physics."

At least she hoped she didn't sound completely incompetent.

To her right, she could almost hear Q running a list of IT's through his mind. If this man was her boss, shouldn't he at least know a little about her already? She sighed, answering his question before he bothered asking.

"Dublin Institute of Technology."

"You're Irish?"

"Dual citizenship. Born English. Spent my whole life in Ireland." Nine thought he would have at least picked up on her foreign accent by now. _"I thought M told me this was the bloke who invented the Omega Safeguard! Shouldn't Q know all of this? Or cop on a little quicker at least?!"_

Finally, her computer emitted a soft "beep", and so, Nine withdrew the USB key from the slot and slipped it back onto the chain around her neck.

Nothing was said as she followed him back up through the hall to the lift. To Nine, the hall didn't seem so long now. Probably because she now had a rough idea of her environment. Her eyes were now glued back to the familiar spot on the floor of the lift. The two stood there in an awkward silence. Nine wanted to be anywhere but here. Away from Q. Away from M and MI6. But even if she could, Nine was sure they would find a way to take it from her. The important little fragment of code which hung heavy around her neck.

"Why MI6?" Q seemed adamant in attempting to make some sort of conversation with her. _"Jayzus, this guy loves asking questions!"_ she thought.

Nine couldn't just not answer him though. Nervously, without meeting his eyes again, she spoke, "I'd be doing more good here than designing apps. Besides, MI6 seem to be more willing to help me pay off student loans."

She didn't really lie to him. She just didn't tell him the whole truth. Really, MI6 wanted something from her, and would not take no for an answer. They made her think she had a choice in the matter. That was the genius of it.

She watched the floor numbers light up the higher the lift climbed and compared them to the long list of departments on the wall beside her. _"Legal? Medical? PR? Q- Branch? This place is colossal!" _Nine guessed that she was on one of the top floors in MI6 again. Perhaps even under M's office.

Nine found herself in yet another long corridor. For some reason, Q had stopped dead before leading her through electronic glass doors. For the first time that day, Nine looked straight up at him. Q truly did seem to be younger than most of the MI6 employees she had seen today. However, the look he was giving her right now made him seem so much older.

Q kept his face neutral. No smiling or frowning. When he spoke to her, his voice sounded cold. Almost sinister. "Alright. I am making this clear to you here and now: I do not trust you. For a start, you're obviously straight out of college and have already been assigned to a team in MI6 most people work for years to be promoted to. There is absolutely no record of you whatsoever in our systems and now M is keeping information from me about the workings inside my own department! Something is not right-"

"Correct, Q. There is something not right. You already know what it is." Nine immediately regretted interrupting him. She couldn't keep the shaking and nervousness out of her voice. "Now I am here to do a job and it is vital I have the support and cooperation of you and your team so as not to impede my progress."

All attempts to look confidant had now gone out the window. _"Damnit, he'll scream at me now! Then kick me out of here, I just know it! There goes my promising career in computer programming..."_

"...Fine"

_"Wait, what?" _Nine was not expecting that at all. She simply muttered a quiet thank you to him before turning on her heel and walking quickly into the Q- Branch before he changed his mind and started shouting at her.

Meanwhile, Q looked on after Nine sceptically. He found this encounter with the new girl a little odd. If anything, he figured he'd scared her more than anything, but he meant what he said. M had just dropped her into his department without so much as a heads up, and that in itself was suspicious. M would not even let him research his new programmer. He didn't know what her potential was, why she was here or any of her previous projects, and so hadn't a clue whether or not Nine was a danger or liability to his team. The information Nine had just told him? That was everything he knew about her. No, Q was positive that something was not right at all.

* * *

"Ola! Guten tag! Bonjour! Konichiwa! Ciao! I'm Steve! Your resident linguist! Welcome to the team!"

As soon as she set foot in the office, Nine was greeted by the smiley blonde haired man. She found this a little overwhelming, but luckily, Steve didn't seem to find her shyness to be a problem.

"Um, thanks. I'm Nine-"

"The new head programmer, right? I heard!" Steve was now leading her around the room. It was as white as Eve's office but with computer monitors, terminals and everything else IT on the walls. In the centre of the room, there were three large H- shaped desks side by side, with two to a desk. It seemed that each person had their own U- Shaped section and Nine noted, with yet another pang of nervousness, that the only cleared desk was opposite the one that the Quartermaster was currently sitting in front of.

"This is the Q Branch! Research and Development. Over there is Roger!" Steve pointed towards an older looking man with greying hair in his late fifties or so who gave her a small wave in acknowledgement. "He monitors the MI6 internal network. Nothing enters or leaves this building digitally without his say so."

"There's only six desks..." she said, slightly confused. She had been told that this team were sometimes totally responsible for British national security. And she was a member of this team. Nine's queasy feeling came back.

Steve was oblivious to Nine's inner turmoil, "That's all we need. We have a smaller team of junior hackers, analysts and programmers and several people working downstairs. Considering you're a programmer, you'll be working rather closely with them!"

"Alright" No, no not alright. Definitely not alright.

Steve skirted around his own desk, and so Nine took the opportunity to learn a little about this man. The desk was kept relatively tidy, but with a little pile of clutter in its corner. There was a colourful painting of a parrot with fluffy feathers stuck on it sellotaped to a reading lamp away from the clutter. Beneath that was a framed photo of what Nine could only assume to be Steve's family: a beautiful wife, teenage daughter and young son who obviously made the cute parrot. An optimistic family man who doesn't like to bring his work home with him. Steve didn't seem so bad.

"Over here we have Eric and Abby, our surveillance and analyst." Steve gestured towards the two people working in the middle H section. They both looked young enough. Possibly ten or fifteen years older than herself and Q. Eric kept his eyes on his computer screens but gave still gave Nine a quick hello. Abby, the dark haired woman across from him simply glared at her before scowling and resuming her typing. Steve sighed.

"Just ignore her. After your predecessor left, we all expected Abby to be promoted to second in command, but the previous M hired you instead. I think the fact that you're so... Uh..."

Nine thought for a moment, "Young?"

He nodded sombrely, "It may have been a bit of a humiliating blow. Ah, She'll get over it, eventually!"

"Eventually?" Nine gulped nervously. First day and already she had two people ticked off at her. Lovely.

"This here is your desk, as I'm sure you've already guessed. Q, who you've already met, sits across from you." He nodded his head toward the young man, who didn't even look up from his work. "The hacker and programmer, linguist and maintenance guy and surveillance with the analyst. I just don't see why we can't all sit together, but hey; beggars can't be choosers!"

Steve was now ushering her back over to the door on the other side of the room, saying something about showing her where she could eat lunch. She only caught a quick glimpse at Q's desk. Extremely tidy. And organised. With absolutely no personal effects, unlike the rest of the team who had at least one non work item on display. From what she could tell, this guy was very serious about his work.

Steve was now making coffee in the break room next door, explaining to her about the cafeteria downstairs and how an intern usually does a coffee run every two hours or so. He then went into excruciating detail about the layout of the building, other departments and floors she had access to. Nine was still amazed by MI6. "I cant believe I had never even heard of this place until after what happened a few months ago" she said sadly. Steve nodded in agreement.

He took a sip of coffee from his spotty red mug, "Well, after the bomb attack on HQ, eight people lost their lives. The woman you are replacing, Elizabeth Jameson was killed that day, along with several other technicians. Thats why the interns and junior techies outnumber the seniors."

Nine paid close attention. It was clear that Steve would be the only one willing to tell her what happened. "Q couldn't handle it, so he took his long overdue retirement, leaving R to succeed him. The bespectacled fellow with the mad hair who sits across from you. R has been Q the Quartermaster for several months now, and he's very good at what he does."

_"That's easy enough to see_" thought Nine. _"Clearly he's very well respected, despite his age. The state of his desk no doubt reflects his work ethic."_

Steve continued, refilling his mug of coffee, "Before our current Q, MI6 really needed a lot of changes; the sort of changes that all the previous Q's couldn't have made. You see: most wars are fought and won on computers nowadays, and the other Q's didn't really understand that. Now, agents are really only needed to do jobs we can't do on any of the computers next door. That's why we now have the youngest department head in the history of MI6."

"He's a little scary, to be honest"

Steve laughed heartily. Despite herself, Nine even smiled a little. "Not really" he chuckled. "He's alright most of the time, but like all of us he has these annoying little quirks. For a start, he's very protective of his Earl Grey. Don't ask." He added after seeing Nine's questioning look. "Just get all your work done on time and you'll be fine. Probably. Q's a little unpredictable."

"I feel so reassured" was Nine's meagre attempt at sarcasm. Steve didn't hear, being too busy trying to find his mobile phone which was ringing loudly. He showed the text message to Nine.

_**Nine,**_

_**Meet me down in the agent's armoury in an hour. Bring lunch.**_

_**-007**_

"He likes doing that. Bond, I mean. Being an annoying smart aleck seems to pass the time he has between missions. He especially likes trying to get a rise out of Q" Nine thought back to the poor smartphone Bond brought in earlier. And the look on Q's face. Yes, there were some weird personalities here. Steve suggested that she get to know the 00's, who were in and out of the building a lot. Often, 00 missions were broadcast on the screens in the office, which all six members of the Q- Branch oversaw. Smaller missions and less important agents were usually handled by the junior team, Q and now Nine.

All of this on top of her first priority? She had a lot of work to do.

* * *

Q was not happy. He still had no information whatsoever. He had already organised with Steve to keep Nine out of the Q-Branch so he could try some more research without arousing her suspicions. She may be new, but she was definitely not stupid. From her short walk around the building, the way she seemed to take in every little detail, Q could plainly see she was very observant.

He searched for a name, a photo anything that could link him to this girl. List of recent DIT graduates? Nothing. Recently published Master's Thesis' from DIT? Nothing. With some effort, he managed to find a CCTV image of Nine from this morning. Did she always keep her head down to purposely avoid cameras or was it just a habit? Anyway, he hadn't gotten any hits off any facial recognition databases or immigration. This girl was practically a ghost.

Q typed a quick memo and sent it to the other four members of his team.

_**She is not to be trusted. Monitor Nine. -Q**_


	3. Rumour Has It

"So you took the job?"

Startled, Nine nearly jumped out of her chair, knocking off her glasses. She was glad she didn't hear the lenses break. She didn't have any spares. Now she couldn't even see who had addressed her. After a little bit of fumbling around, she finally felt her glasses being pressed gently into her hand. She managed to slip the frames on again and found herself looking at a familiar face.

"Mr Tanner?" Bill Tanner, someone who Nine regarded as a friendly acquaintance, was smiling and leaning casually against her desk.

"Still as clumsy as ever, I see."

"Unfortunately, yes." Nine flushed red at the memory. Whenever M came to visit her in Dublin, her Chief of Staff, was always faithfully by her side. He was a nice enough fellow and he always had something interesting to talk about. Tanner found out about her clumsiness when she accidentally knocked a cup of scalding hot coffee over him. Luckily for Nine, he had a sense of humour.

"So I hear you go by Nine now?" Tanner was one of two people privy to her name, origins and background. M, of course was the other.

"Uh, yes, actually. M's orders"

"I never got a chance to explain to you that we now have a new M. Sorry. Anyway, Eve sent me here to show you to the agents armoury. She thought you might get lost looking for Bond down there." Tanner really did look genuinely sorry. Nine was glad to at least have a familiar face around the office. She was grateful for Eve's help, and made a mental note to thank her later.

She told Tanner that she would go with him as soon as she was finished writing the line of code she was working on. That was fine by Tanner, who then started up a conversation with Q across from them, who Nine figured, had likely been following their conversation. Nine soon finished up and let Tanner lead her down into the lower levels of MI6.

* * *

"I said to bring lunch."

"I did."

"A tiny little sandwich and a bottle of water."

"And a bag of crisps for you. In my defence, you weren't specific."

Nine was now seated with James Bond on the agent's armoury level of the building. All of the other 00 agents were on missions, so the two had the place to themselves. As soon as Nine stepped out of the lift, she knew she would not like it.

Guns adorned the walls here.

Little killing machines. Nine did not like it one bit, but she knew she'd have to get over it. This was her job now. Helping to protect one of the most influential countries in the world. Easier said than done. After all, if Great Britain fell, it was only logical to assume that her home, Ireland, would fall with it. At the moment, she was sitting at a table in the next door firing range with agent 007. Grudgingly, Bond accepted her offering of a bag of crisps.

"You're almost as bad as Q. At least you remember to eat, though. We need to remind him every few days."

"He's amnesiac?"

Bond shook his head, "No. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if he had an eidetic memory. Q could easily bring down a small country if needed but he just tends to forget simple little things. Like eating. And sleeping. And occasionally, if he becomes drastically overworked, that he hasn't been home for a few days."

Nine understood perfectly, "I managed to break those habits after college. Is wasn't easy." she muttered. This didn't surprise the agent in the slightest.

As they ate, Bond began a long monologue explaining how guns worked. Due to her interest and studies in Physics, Nine found she could keep up with him quite easily. Bond showed her how to take firearms apart, their most important components, how things such as supressors and silencers worked all while she nibbled on her sandwich. Then 007 decided to move on to some actual shooting.

This level of MI6 was known as B double 0. Or BOO. Nine found this to quite ironic. Even though she had only met one field agent today, she had heard many scary stories about the nine infamous double 0's, and to be honest, they scared the bejesus out of her. Not only was this floor an armoury, it was an entire level dedicated to the 00 agents of MI6, complete with a fully facilitated gym, assault course, firing range and locker rooms. Of course, any weaponry used in the field were supplied by Q and his team. The firing range on B00 was slightly different to the one she had seen earlier on BQ. There were no computers here. Just four white walls and crude paper targets with black human silhouettes, which lucky for Nine, did not shoot back.

Nine had almost always preferred theory to practical work. Theory was easier to remember, and due to her clumsiness, she had a tendency to mess up anything practical. Still, she made an effort. She held the weapon like Bond showed her. She reluctantly let him adjust her stance, even though she hated when people got close to her like that. At one stage, he came up behind her unexpectedly, his hands had settled gently on her waist to correct her posture. She instantly froze up. Bond, of course, noticed and apologised, but to Nine's relief, did not question her. After some time, she managed to hit the white corner of the paper target. She'd established she was somewhat of a terrible shot, so she considered this to be quite an achievement. Bond, however, had given up all hope.

* * *

"So, how was weapons training?"

Nine groaned inwardly. She had gone to find Moneypenny in that famillair white office (_"MI6 really love their white..." _she noted) after she was finished with Bond downstairs. It was nearly time to go home, but Nine went up to the secretary's office with a muffin wanting to thank her for sending Tanner to help her earlier. The two ended up chatting and, upon Eve's insistence, sharing the fresh chocolate chip muffin. Nine was glad to be friendly with someone besides Tanner and Steve. Eve was eager to know what her first day was like, so Nine gladly answered most of her questions.

"Terrible. Couldn't even hit the target. The only useful thing I managed to pick up on was how to remove a firing pin."

Moneypenny shrugged, "That's better than nothing. I know an agent who nearly shot their instructor on their first time."

"Bond was smart enough not to walk in front of any weapon I was holding. Why do you ask anyway?"

Moneypenny popped a piece of muffin in her mouth, smiling brightly, "Because I really am concerned for your wellbeing... And I also happened to hear that you and Bond were caught snogging down on the firing range!"

Nine's eyes widened in disbelief. She was totally and utterly speechless. The man was more than twenty years older than her! Her first day and already her colleagues were gossiping about her? As if she wasn't nervous enough already! Nine's delayed reaction seemed to prompt Eve to come to conclusions.

"So its true!" Eve exclaimed.

"What's true?" Q had just exited the lift carrying a stack of files and papers. Nine almost died on the spot. Just her luck, her boss just had to walk in and get the wrong idea. She tried to calmly to deny it, "It's not true!" Of course she had to turn red and stutter. Just to make it more uncomfortable, she HAD to turn red and stutter. Lovely.

Moneypenny was laughing now. Nine knew now she was only joking and didn't really believe that absurd accusation. Unfortunately, Q didn't get the hint.

"What's not true?"

"Bond snogged Nine!" Eve was still giggling.

"Again, not true!" Nine groaned.

"Office rumor?" asked Q.

"Obviously!"

Q shook his head, placing the pile of heavy looking paperwork on Eve's desk and searching for a pen, "Just don't let it bother you, it's never true. If we believed such rumors, I'd be gay and shagging Lenny the post clerk for the past two months-"

Moneypenny was interested now, "Really? I thought that one actually was true!"

Q was not amused. He signed a sheet of paper he had forgotten about earlier before replying calmly, "It's not."

"So then you're not really-"

"No."

Nine felt a little awkward. At least the attention wasn't on her anymore. Of course Bond had to pop up out of nowhere and join in the conversation, "I'll need that in writing, Q!"

Q scowled in annoyance, but Bond continued anyway, "And what exactly are people saying about me?"

"You really want to know?" Q had what looked like a mischievous glint in his eye. Nine was a little afraid. Bond flashed that infamous smile of his, declaring that yes, he did indeed want to know what his colleagues were saying behind his back.

"Alright then, Bond. According to office rumour-"

"I've slept with half of the staff?" exclaimed the agent in mock disbelief. "Untrue! It's around a fifth, give or take a few-"

"You're actually a woman."

Silence. Complete and utter silence. Bond couldn't even come up with a retort. How Q managed to keep a straight face, Nine had no idea. Nine kept her eyes to the floor, trying desperately not to smile or laugh. She tried to hide a grin behind her hand. Eve Moneypenny made no such attempt and snickered, "That shut you up, didn't it James?!"

Bond walked away back to the lift, most of his usual swagger gone. He was frantically muttering something about a Charlotte from Legal with a grudge. When they were sure he was gone, Eve and Q shamelessly burst out laughing. Q picked up his paper mountain and headed towards M's office smirking, "Somehow, I don't think his ego shall manage to bounce back from this one..."


	4. Gridlock

Two weeks passed, and slowly but surely Nine began to integrate into the the workings of the office. She had begun to make peace with most of her team. Steve continued to be friendly towards her, as did the ever charming Roger and goofy Eric. More like friendly acquaintances. Abby still wouldn't talk to her though and she wondered sometimes whether Q even noticed she was occupying the desk opposite his. She didn't dwell on it for very long, however. She just tried to be as friendly as she could be to everybody.

The other five members of the Q- Branch quickly discovered that Nine's daily schedule was as erratic as her ability to stay organised. Unlike Q, Nine had no set routine. She came and went for different periods of time every day, visiting level BQ, the junior techies in the computer laboratory next door and the main Q-Branch. M and Q had given her some small assignments already, but mostly, Nine could be seen typing lines and lines of endless emerald green code into her two computers. Both of Nine's desks were buried in notes scrawled in her own spiky, unreadable handwriting. Paper. The Q- branch hadn't seen notepaper in years! The vast majority of their work was done on computers. There was no need for something so "low tech" as Eric put it. The others figured she must have some sort of system, because she hadn't lost anything. Yet.

Nine was still shy and nervous around everyone. Not to mention, very easily startled. She was fine if she saw the person before they talked to her, but if not she'd jerk into the air in fright and drop whatever she was holding. They'd lost two or three tea mugs as a result.

She mostly took her lunch breaks with either Eve or Steve, either outside the office, or in the break room down the hall. Nine was beginning to get a headache from all of the white in this place. The break room wasn't huge, just a small, long, white room. A stainless steel kitchen unit could be found at one end, complete with a sink, fridge, microwave, a small drawer of cutlery, cupboard and an endless assortment of multicoloured coffee mugs, which seemed to be the only colours besides black and white Nine could find in the whole building. On the opposite side of the room was a coffee table, two black plastic chairs and a matching battered, old leather sofa. According to Steve, nobody knew how the large couch found its way into the break room. One day it was just there, but nobody complained or asked questions about it. So, the sofa stayed.

The linguist soon discovered not only Nine's native Irish but also her poor basic secondary school French she hadn't used in six years or so. During lunch hours, Steve would help Nine try to reclaim her grasp on that third (and final, she assured him) language. He didn't laugh at her once, and for that she was grateful. In return, she taught him some basic Irish words and phrases. One day, Q happened to walk in on them conversing (or attempting to, in Nine's case) in French. He just brewed his usual Earl Grey and left, shaking his head tiredly.

Nine's first time helping with a 00 mission happened just before the end of her second week...

* * *

"MI6 let you off because they were convinced you'd be a useful contact. Well right now you're not being useful in the slightest! You had better not be wasting my time!"

The six members of the Q branch were practically glued to the large screen on the side of the room opposite to the door. Q and Nine's desks were the closest to the screen, and so they had a clear view of what was going on. A long stainless steel desk, previously unnoticed by Nine, was parallel to this main screen. A desk shared by Q and Nine, who now stood side by side surrounded by equipment. The team had audio and surveillance through Bond's earpiece and various security cameras dotting the area.

Jean Claude Bavarde was a weedy, little ex arms dealer who had been little more than an annoying thorn in the side of several international agencies. MI6 had gotten a hold of him, and now he was their reluctant informant stationed in France. For some unknown reason, he'd had to drop everything and go into hiding two weeks ago. Eric had received an urgent message from him, and so 007 had been sent to find him and investigate whatever lead he had dug up. Bond had spent more than a week tracking down the informant, who he found hiding in a seedy motel in the outskirts of the city. The agent had then been led to an empty warehouse, much to his annoyance.

The warehouse itself was near central Paris beside the Seine. It may have been a factory at some point, but had later been converted into a storage facility. Silver corrugated metal made up the walls, and cheap light fixtures hung from the slanted roof on rusty chains wrapped in wires. The whole structure covered an area slightly smaller than the size of a football pitch.

Unfortunately, contrary to Bavarde's information, the warehouse was empty. All there was to be seen were four metal walls, flickering lights and forgotten tools. In all of this, Bavarde found himself pinned against a cold metal wall. James Bond was not a happy bunny.

"Eet was moofed, I swear! Eet was big hooge machine! I doh know what eet was for, but eet was eemportant. Eet was garded twenty foh- sefen by armed gards!" Bavarde spoke in poor, heavily accented English. "T-there was seembol on eets monitor! Like number huit on its side!"

Bond was getting more and more impatient, "The symbol for infinity? You had better say something useful in the next ten seconds. Who's 'they'?"

The informant turned pale instantly, "I donno who's 'they'! They say they bring world to eet's knees. They will do it using... uh, what was English word? They say they make spi-"

The shot came out of nowhere.

A bullet hole appeared between the man's eyes. His dead weight was thrown onto the agent. The shot had sprayed Bond in Bavarde's warm blood. Automatically, Bond shielded himself with the informant's body and dragged himself outside into the cool, dark night to find cover behind the thin metal wall. He unceremoniously dropped the dead body on the ground and drew his favourite Walther from his jacket. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a red dot moving across the concrete, searching for its next target.

The whole scene was watched live from London. A chorus of typing and mouse clicking echoed throughout the Q- Branch. Q was still at the head of the room standing before the large screen. Nine stood to his left, patiently awaiting instructions. Nine forced herself to watch the terrible scene, successfully turning her initial look of shock and horror on her face into a grimace. Oblivious to Nine's disgust, Q spoke calmly and clearly to his operative, "Bond, you're outnumbered. You need to get out of there now."

Bond crouched down and sprinted towards Bavarde's car, a shoddy little Ford Fiesta he could barely fit into. He had no need to check for traps before opening his door and starting the engine. The CCTV would have told Q if the car had been sabotaged in any way. He speeded out of the yard and headed for the main road leading into the city. Checking his mirrors, he spotted a Black Range Rover tailing him, but he was too far away to see exactly how many people were in the jeep. There were at least two occupying the front seats.

Meanwhile, the Q- Branch were trying to find Bond a quick way out of Paris using footage Eric pulled from the city's traffic camera's. The roads were blocked up with people returning home for the evening, and traffic was being diverted due to a concert being held somewhere nearby.

"Nine, I need to hack the Paris Traffic Control system." Q began typing into his laptop, not even taking his eyes off Bond's position. At his command, the contents on the monitors of his own laptop and Nine's appeared alongside live footage from Paris for the whole room to see. "Ensure that we go unnoticed for now."

It was clear: Nine certainly knew her way around a computer. She hid Q's hacking quite well. Q noticed this almost immediately and increased the speed of his typing, now knowing full well she could easily keep up with him. Nine let out an undistinguishable sound that was something of a startled squeak, then she began to type faster, trying simultaneously to regenerate the code Q had broken and delete his cyber footprints, hiding his trail.

Typing furiously, Q called out behind him, "Steve, listen to the police scanners. If they're onto Bond, let me know immediately. Roger, if the system tries to retaliate, hold it off. Do not let it anywhere near our firewalls. Eric, keep an eye on those cameras and don't lose Bond. Abby, map the quickest route out of the city. I'll need you to give us directions in a moment." Q lowered his voice as needed when he spoke to the young woman beside him, "Nine, I need you to re- program the traffic lights while I guide Bond out of the city. Gridlock every route in Paris except the one we chose for Bond."

In Paris, Bond was about to get stuck in traffic when he heard Q's voice in his earpiece, "Bond, if you don't follow these directions to the letter, its your funeral. Now, take a left up here." Q hoped that for once, Bond would follow instructions. He did.

So everything was under control. Abby was giving directions, Q was backseat driving while Bond swore vehemently at Q to shut up and Nine typed frantically while Eric told her which set of traffic lights to re- program. Sure enough, 007 was quickly making his way through Paris with ease. Then the sound of gunshots rang through the room. The last thing Q saw, was Bond jamming on the brakes.

Then the Q- Branch went blind.

Video, audio, everything gone in the blink of an eye. Nine knew immediately, that something wasn't right. This was not normal. This was not a part of the plan. Screens which previously held live camera footage were blank, and all that could be heard was a monotonous fizzing sound from the microphones. This silence lasted for a few seconds before Q began barking more orders at the team. Nine, of course, was unable to do anything to help without anything to programme. Inputting code onto a computer was certainly of no use to anyone at that moment.

For the first time since she'd met him, Q's usual calm and collected façade crumbled. Now he just looked... worried. Panicked. Surprisingly, like a normal human being with fears and worries of his own, a side of him which he usually hid from the rest of the office. They were all terrified, and rightly so, had Bond not been wearing a seat belt, the laws of physics and gravity would have ensured his fatal flight through the windscreen of the little car. Not to mention that with no help from Q and his team, Bond was at a severe disadvantage. Q looked how Nine felt: incompetent. Nobody could do anything about 007 now, so all they could do was sit in front of their computers wait in a terrible, heavy silence.

"...Q?"

"Bond?!"

Q had clutched both hands around the edges of his desk, his knuckles turning white with the amount of force he used. He desperately looked for any signs of life on the large monitor. One by one, the computer screens around the room blinked to life once again. The whole team seemed to release a breath they didn't realise they'd been holding. But Bond wasn't on any of the footage.

"I'm tracking you now. You're on the other side of Paris! What happened?"

"I honestly don't know."

The agent described what had occurred since MI6 had lost contact with him. According to Bond, everything had simply stopped working. Cars, lights, anything electrical simply shorted out. The whole city suffered a blackout. Unfortunately, due to the fact that the Walther's palm recognition ran off electricity, Bond's custom made gun would not operate. With no weapon or transportation, Bond had been chased across Paris by goons whose guns most certainly did work. Bond told of how he lost them several minutes ago and that he was now leaving Paris on a motorbike he had stolen just as the power had come back on.

The normal cool, calm and collected Q was back now. He shook his head and sighed, just glad that Bond was out of trouble for the time being, "Turn right onto the A1. It should take you to Calais and you can catch a ferry back to England. I want a full report once you return. Turn on your comms again if you run into trouble."

"Will do, Q. Also, I found a note from Bavarde stuffed into one of my jacket pockets. The symbol for infinity and the words 'Rio de Janeiro.'"

At least the agent got something from Bavarde. Whether or not it was useful was to be decided. After a final goodbye, Bond was gone. The team relieved at another job done. Puzzled, Q checked his watch and glanced around the room, "That's odd, M isn't here yet. I thought we'd be in a load of trouble over hacking the traffic lights..." He decided to get the dreaded telling- off from M over and done with now before tackling the problem that was the strange blackout that interrupted their mission.

Nine was typing a final few lines of code into her laptop, not looking up as she spoke, "Oh, the French don't know it was us." At the stunned silence, she turned slowly to meet the attentions of the other occupants of the room. Q met her eyes, seeming to ask for some sort of explanation.

"...What? Q said 'unnoticed'!" Nine's shy gaze dropped to a familiar place: the floor. Adjusting her glasses out of habit again, she found herself wishing that the spotlight would somehow shift to anyone else but her, "...T- the French just think that everyone is stuck in traffic because of that big charity concert a few streets away and wouldn't have noticed Bond in all that chaos and the blackout. Their data logs have been altered to show no manual intervention in the system. Now that power is restored, they'll find their traffic lights are working perfectly."

She waited nervously for someone to speak. _"I couldn't be in trouble, right? Is this really a big deal? I only did what I was told. Maybe I did go a little overboard..."_

"Amazing!"

It was Roger who spoke, "In all my years here in the Q- Branch, we were never capable of hiding ourselves so simply and effectively. That was some quick thinking on your part!" The other techies, even Q and Abby, couldn't argue with that.

Nine was turning an increasingly bright shade of pink, "I-it wasn't that amazing, to be honest. Really, just a few extra lines of code! Nothing special." She was stuttering again.

Eric was smiling like a Cheshire Cat, "You just saved us from an hour long angry lecture from M and some idiot French Ambassador!"

The others, except Abby and Q who remained silent, voiced their thanks and such. Any more flattery or attention, and Nine would have died of embarrassment right there. She picked up a mug of fresh tea, attempting to hide behind it. The young intern had been and gone on his regular tea and coffee run and she had failed to notice. When she was working, she rarely paid attention to her surroundings. She took a sip from the mug and grimaced.

"Ugh!"

Q had also decided to drink his tea, the famous Scrabble mug in his hand. He also had a look of disgust on his face, "This is terrible!"

Nine agreed wholeheartedly, "Absolutely repulsive!"

"How much sugar can you possibly take!?"

"This is so... so bitter!" Nine said, and almost added,_ "like you"_ to the end of that statement, but managed to hold her tongue.

The two walked the exit at the other end of the office, heading towards the break room next door. They acknowledged George the janitor mopping the floor as they passed.

Q scowled, "At least it's not green tea."

"I wouldn't be caught dead drinking such a vile concoction!" Nine said irritably, "At least Earl Grey is actually drinkable!"

That was the end of a somewhat civil conversation. The usual awkward silence manifested between them again. The only thing uttered after that was a quiet request for Q to get the sugar, which was once again on the very top shelf in the cupboard, which Nine couldn't reach. She suspected that someone kept putting it up there on purpose. Nine added a small spoon of the sweet substance to her blue, striped mug before leaving the room as quickly as she could. Q, with his arms folded, watched her leave, leaning casually against the counter while waiting for the kettle to boil.


End file.
